


Is It Love?

by missmishka



Category: Cable and Deadpool, Marvel (Comics)
Genre: M/M, all thoughts and no action, fourth wall?, you never had a chance Irene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-16
Updated: 2012-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-10 01:37:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmishka/pseuds/missmishka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Focusing on the first half of the Cable & Deadpool comics run (aka up to issue #25) Irene opens the door to exploration and exposition of the whole Cable/Deadpool "relationship."  From the perspectives of the primary triangle, Irene Merryweather, Wade "Deadpool, Merc with a Mouth" Wilson and Nathan Dayspring Askani'son....let's just go with Priscilla.  Or Cable.  He likes to be called Cable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Irene

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: The usual warnings, I claim no ownership of these characters, they are simply borrowed with love and adoration from the original creators to have their stories, thoughts or circumstances embellished on a little more than the original format had done. Not for any profit.

  _I_ _s it love?_ Irene Merryweather questions as she stands in the shadows watching them.

She can’t count the number of times that question has popped into her head since she met the would-be world savior from the future named Nathan Dayspring Askani’son Summers; more commonly known as Cable.More often than not she’s asked the question of herself in trying to figure out what she feels for the man and why she follows the myth.

It had begun so long ago as a story she sought to break to make a name for herself as a Pulitzer prize winning journalist (she allows a scoff at herself for ever having had such lofty goals while filling pages for the Daily Bugle) but somewhere along the line she became part of the tale.Narrator; character; writer and editor all in one.A regular modern day Gal Friday for Nate.

 __And does she love him?

_Rather wholeheartedly._

_Foolheartedly._

Because the question is not asked of herself this time.She puts the query to her investigative and insightful mind to try peeling back the layers of this onion to try and figure out what lies at the heart of it no matter the tears it will cause her in the process.

_Cable and Deadpool._

_What are **they?** What can it possibly be that draws them together and keeps them inside one another’s lives when so very few are given the privilege of knowing Nate? Not ever she has knowledge of or access to the man like Deadpool has had._

Wade Wilson, to her, is a criminal.The merc with a mouth that she would personally love to stitch shut if she had ever paid attention to her mother’s attempts to domesticate her and learned how to sew those really good knots that might actually work to shut the man up.For a breath.

He’s an idiot; goon; misogynist; lunatic; murderer; sexist and all around loser.

He is the antithesis of everything she sees and admires in Cable yet the mercenary is a constant in Nathan’s life.The man has a place here that she will never understand and will, clearly, never be able to usurp.

They’re the most dysfunctional relationship she has ever seen.She’s lost count of the number of times they’ve killed and saved one another.

She’s only ever seen violence between them; insults, fists and bullets firing; swords slashing and explosions flashing. 

Yet they keep coming back to one another.

It’s not a domination/submission thing; neither of them appears to be the kicked puppy eternally returning to its Master for lack of any other place to go or an alternative way to survive.

They are the unlikeliest of friends; they have said as much themselves at one time; in one way or another.

But Irene _knows_ it is something more than friendship. Mere ‘friends’ could and would never go to or tolerate the extremes these two have been.Beyond killing one another; they had died for each other.

She will forever boggle at the realization that there is _nothing_ that Wade won’t do for Nate and vice versa.

Deadpool is; has been and perhaps always will be Cable’s downfall.

 _Why?_ She has asked Nathan countless time in various ways other than the flat out and direct approach of “Why do you care about anything that happens to Deadpool?”Even she can’t bring herself to even contemplate asking the real question of “Why do you care about Deadpool?”

 _Was it sexual?_ she flinches at that one; thinking of the odd beauty of Cable’s half flesh, half techno-organics body joining in with Wade’s diseased flesh.

_Have they had sex?Do they **want** sex?_

The images spring to mind with surprising ease; revolting as they are to her and it seems far too likely a scenario as she watches them sparring.

The way they fight; knowing and anticipating one another’s moves, flexing and adapting to each other’s style; it’s a dance.Intimate and personal; well practiced and familiar. She can picture it without the clothing; with the fists unfurled and the hands touching, stroking, grasping for purchase and pleasure.

Though no one has ever seen tender touch or gesture pass between the men, she knows how solid the doors and walls of Providence are and there has been many a time when Nathan’s chambers are locked against even her entrance.Times when Wade may or may not have been inside the room with him; the two doing things together that reinforced the bonds that kept them so tightly in one another’s lives.

She never sees either of them more comfortable or relaxed than at a moment like this when they essentially play with one another.They both bleed and break, no punches are pulled to limit pain or bruising as they spar with the same vengeance that they fight with; but it is in fun to them in this setting.

The gi Wade wears and Nate’s loose pants denote the casualness of this scene.Deadpool’s lack of trademark mask or uniform are a definite sign that they mean no harm to one another despite the blow Cable delivers to Wade’s mouth, sending blood and what appears to be two teeth flying.

She bites back a laugh as Cable knees Deadpool sharply in the groin and finds it hard to imagine that a man; even one as twisted as Wade; would ever consider having sex with anything that would treat his privates with such disregard.

The banter they exchange, though, the ease with which they communicate; finding an understanding between one another when so many struggle with Cable’s complexities and Deadpool’s insanities; it puts her mind back on the likelihood of their relationship being physical on more than this sparring level.

It just doesn’t make sense to her.No matter how she spins it; she can’t see any way, any universe or reality in which there is a _reason_ for Nathan to _be_ with Wilson.And still he is.They are inexplicably and intrinsically enmeshed in one another and neither of them ever gives more than the occasional superficial struggle to get free of the other.

Whatever they have together, they like it.Perhaps even want and, Gods forbid, _need_ it.

The exercise is drawing to a close with her nowhere nearer to a conclusion to her ponderings.

She hears Wade’s quip about the session missing massage oil and shakes her head violently to dispel the lingering images that latch on to idea of oils to slicken all that male flesh as it writhes together in ways far removed from the sparring.

Even she winches in unbidden sympathy when Deadpool gives a surprisingly customary bow to end the session and Cable returns the gesture with a brutal metal elbow to the back of the bowing man’s skull.

_If this is Nathan Summers in love, it’s no wonder that she’s never had a chance_


	2. Deadpool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade wades in...who can resist that pun? Blatant disregard for the fourth wall as per the norm for Deadpool.

You didn’t really think I’d let all those wishy washy womanly wonderings go unanswered, did you?

So, hey, yeah, Deadpool here. Wade Wilson, aka the merc with a mouth who will someday soon reach the pinnacle of Marvel merchandising with my very own cartoon series, movie franchise and my image on teeny tots’ underoos (fuck you very much Spiderman.) 

If Nate had ever thought to ask me, which he never does for reasons even I know to be obvious, I could have told him that dragging a dame like Irene Merryweather into our series was a dumb idea. 

She thinks too much. Watches too closely. Always questioning and theorizing and trying to sort things out into a nice, believable story that puts everyone on the same pages and settles their thoughts so that nightmares and the chaos of life don’t drive us all as crazy as I’ve been. 

Problem is; nothing’s ever cut and dry like that. Black and white.

Even in Cable’s little Providence Utopia there is gray. Shades and shades and layers upon layers of gray.

It’s not nearly as pretty or interesting as the red of blood or black and blue of bruising; though I really don’t know why it’s called black and blue when bruises are at their most interesting and gruesome when they’ve gone all green and yellow with that purply tinge…dammit. Been reading too much fanmail from the fangirls, I’m digressing.

So, gray.

It’s everywhere.

And like it or not, Ms. Merryweather, it’s a color our Cable really likes to work with. Sure, I know in his head it’s all black and white just as he’d like you to believe can all be, but it gets mixed together as the ideas come out and plans, pictures, whatnot; it all gets a tint of gray as it goes from thought to reality.

Of course Priscilla loves me!

Who wouldn’t?!

Sure, I’m flawed and rough around the edges, but everyone loves a fixer-upper in relationships and Nathan loves to repair things. It’s a perfect match.

Aside from the fact that there’s no ‘match’ to it.

We’re men, ok?

Unlike Irene, I’m not about to go doodling my name a hundred times on the cover of a notebook with hearts and flowers and variations of ‘Mrs. Nathan Dayspring Askani’son Summers Cable Soldier X’ scrawled all over it. (Discreetly checks couch cushions to make sure the edge of his notebook isn’t poking out for anyone to see his rough drawing of Cable and he sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g.) 

No, honey, real men don’t doodle. We don’t _love_.

We’re mutant superheroes! 

(Ignores the countless cries of “You are not a mutant” dissenters like Cannonballs and waves aside the indignation at his inclusion of self in ‘superheroes.’)

Fine, we’re … whatever; super badass mutherfu…SHHH shut my mouth.

We’ve got this thing.

It’s a good thing, too.

Nathan is all… _Cable_ with the powers and the muscles and the good intentions that make me want to do truly crazy things like hope and believe and he draws a person in. Makes them feel welcome. Makes them _feel_. Talk about a damned supervillian, I tell you that right there makes _him_ a poster child.

And we got kind of tangled together with a few of those ‘joining’ to save one another moments. The man’s been inside my head and walked away without requiring a straight-jacket or twenty-four hour nurse to wipe a away his drool afterward. I’ve been inside him; been a part of him in ways that are a lot ickier than the simple penetration, bump and grind of sex. We’ve exchanged every possible fluid known to man and it’s been one hell of a ride.

_So why isn’t it over yet? Why haven’t either of us made a move to get off even though the rollercoaster has stopped more than once for others to enter and exit?_

Because there’s more to this world than love and hate, honey, and that’s what I’ve got with your Messiah. 

I never asked for it and neither did he.

_Would we have asked for it if we'd **known**?_

Probablly. Because our lives just aren't interesting _enough_ without all of _this_.

This kind of thing just..hell, it didn’t even just happen or any of that corny tripe. 

It; _we_ just _are_.

Like boomerangs we keep finding our ways back to one another no matter how hard or far we’re thrown; like the moon and sun we’re forever in the same orbit.

_Is it sexual?_

Well, now. Is the Pope Catholic?! .... Actually, the whole religious thing kind of bores me, the Pope _is_ Catholic, right?

Anyway, the stories I could tell you, Irene. The XXX rated images I could give you to fill your little spank bank… _do women have spank banks?_ (Diverted to thoughts debating this matter. Women weren’t really known to ‘spank’ anything in the masturbatory sense, but then men were never really ‘spanking the monkey’ when they jerked off….except that one time Wade was in South Africa and there was this chimpanzee…. Women got off on sex thoughts just like men did, so he settles it in his head that the ladies would and/or could have a spank bank too.)

Right, so…sex.

I’ve totally had it with Cable.

Hot, crazy, body and mind melding/melting sex. Having been inside that tight ass is more than enough reason to put up with what a tight-assed stick in the mud Summers could be sometimes – I blame Cyclops’ genetics on that one, because even though Scott Summers didn’t raise his offspring, Nathan definitely inherited some character traits. How I’ve fingered and rimmed and fisted that tight ass…Cable’s, not Cyke’s…not that I couldn’t do all that I wanted to to Cyclops as well, just that I haven’t and wouldn’t want to. Just Nathan.

In so many ways, _just_ Nathan.

He’s my blessing and curse, not that I put any merit in all that hooey.

And, ok, so maybe the whole me having sex with Nathan is all fantasy in my head that no one was ever supposed to ever know about _damn you, **Black Mamba!**_ but we have been close and as you dames like to say _“intimate.”_

There’s been plenty of touching in those special places all the kiddies are told to never enjoy anyone playing with until they’re old and married. There’s been biting and rubbing and gripping and groaning and maybe a time or two when I bent over and took it with the greatest of pleasure while Cable pounded out one frustration or another in my ass, but it’s not love. 

We don’t snuggle afterward; except those times where we’re really tired and worn out and we’re going straight to bed anyway to sleep so it’s just natural for us to fall to the nearest soft, bedlike surface and collapse in a tangle of sweaty limbs to rest our eyes for a bit to recharge. 

That’s just … exhaustion. Satisfaction leading to relaxation lending to peace and quiet and an actual moment of rest where my head isn’t spinning with inane thoughts and wild fantasies and I think in those moments that Cable’s mind is wracked with the thoughts and memories of worlds past, present and future.

Messed up as I am, I could probably be medicated and deal with the bulk of my demons; Nathan can never be free of what he’s been through.

It would have been nice to leave him innocent and unknowing of it all when I rescued him from Sinister after his little journey through the alternate realities of Cable, but no, Nathan had to be a hero and save my ass again; pulling all those lost parts of himself back together into his kid body so he could go in and unscramble the omelet of my mind. 

I hate him for that one sometimes. Hate him so damned much for all he’s given of himself for me. Sure, I hate the idea of being some place in an afterlife with no TV or Bea Arthur and I like myself well enough, but in the grand scheme even I can see I’m not worth it. I know he sees it too, but he just won’t _accept_ it.

Anymore than I can accept the idea that there are worlds out there where Nathan has died the death of those who truly do not and cannot experience life again. Just as I can’t accept the thought of him ever being trapped so deep within himself that he can’t find his way back to me.

Hey, that’s not some sappy Nicholas Sparks tearjerk-fest line, that’s back to the whole boomerang thing. 

We always come back to one another.

It’s nature. 

Physics.

Destiny.

And if it gives me a chubby in my pants and a jaunty tune to hum in my head and a spring in my step and some damnedable flutter in my stomach along with a slight increase to my heartrate, then that’s not love. 

That’s just biology.

Taco Bell does the same damn thing. Except the chubby…unless the cashier’s cute, then I’ll get a bit hard in the drive thru. 

Mmm. Taco Bell.

I’d love me a cheesy gordita right about now.

ChaluPA. 

Chalupa.

Why, oh why, don’t they sell chimichangas?

Chimichanga.

Chimichanga.

Chimichanga.

I love saying that.

Almost as much as I love that blockhead super-soldier-wanna-be-world-savior from the future.

…

….

..…

I said that out loud, didn’t I?


	3. Cable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cable sums it up.

The want to understand is human nature.

Irene’s curiosity, puzzlement and growing aggravation are of no surprise to Nathan.  He doesn’t need his telepathy or the pseudo-telepathy of the infonet to know what she wants to know.  He doesn’t need any superpowers to anticipate the question always twitching on the tip of her tongue whenever the matter of Deadpool comes up.

He has the evasions and half-truths at the ready for he, but she hasn’t found the courage yet to ask the question and the ones she does ask are easily deflected.  Not effective for diverting her, but his reticence to give her any hints to the answers she really wanted seems to be enough to keep them from having out the conversation he hopes to never have.

He’s considered giving her the answers she wants, volunteering the information just to have someone outside his own head that he can discuss the matter with, but this is one topic he cannot seek her counsel on.  There’s no way to explain it to her that she _could_ understand, much as she might like to try.

She thinks his relationship with Wade to be “complicated” but the truth is she _wants_ it to be complex when in actuality it’s rather simple.

They fight against and for one another and in the course of their battles they’ve come to know one another in ways more intense and basic than any mere social interactions allow.  There were others; men and women; past, present and future that he has fought beside and Cable has had relationships with them but if he’s honest with himself even he will admit it’s never been like it is with Wade.  He’s had friendships with his most of comrades and compatriots; had sex with some of them to relieve the stress of battle.  He’s considered many of them family; kinsman and brethren in a cause.

Deadpool is … none of those things. 

Yet somehow _all_ of those things to Cable.

Irene would never accept _that_ kind of statement; no matter how sincerely Nathan spoke it.

He could try masking it in words or sentiment that she might understand with her innate romanticism; something trite and pop culture like Wade would think of using like “he completes me” but the idea is laughable.  Neither he nor Wilson wants to think in terms of ‘completing’ one another; of _needing_ each other.

Need isn’t the right word.

They had, could and, sadly, would survive without one another.  Cable has seen realities where Wade has died; sometimes at Nathan’s own hands and each death has left its mark on his soul.  They have been friends and enemies in countless realms; lovers in but a few; always known to one another in some way or another no matter the timeline or continuum. 

Only one of the other versions of Wade had been as vocal as this Wilson and Cable means it with every fiber of his being when he speaks of how the sound of the other man’s voice affects him.  The Demi Moore references may be a bit of a private joke, but the truth is he loves the rhythm and timbre of Wade’s voice.  In that other timeline; under the rule of Apocalypse; they had only been friends.  They had been fighters on the same side until En Sabah Nur ground the other man to dust beneath his heel in his rise to overtake another universe.  He remembers fragments of that reality; stories shared between the two men around campfires; jokes told by Wilson; a fragile and mere mortal in those deadly games to alleviate some of the tension on the eve of battle.

Despite Wade’s failings in _this_ ‘verse it is the closest they’ve ever gotten to all the fragments of their lives and beings coming together in a way that works.  Considering how dysfunctional they are _here_ , that isn’t exactly saying much for their relationship.

In the most basic of terms they have a relationship.

They have feelings for one another.

He looks out for Wade; can’t deny or suppress his urge to protect the other man’s ego, sanity and physical well being.  Irene condemns him for that; for Nathan’s only thought being Deadpool’s welfare when the mercenary grabbed an innocent civilian to ward off Spiderman.  All Cable could think of, though, is how pinned down the other man must have felt to make such a move and he’d wanted to take that stress and panic from Wade. 

It isn’t a game he plays with these assignments he hires Deadpool for, the stakes are too high for that.  Wade is no mere pawn in Cable’s goals for this world; others may be; Irene may be just a piece of the puzzle, but Wade is not.  If anything he’s most likely to see all of Nathan’s dreams laid to waste, but without him that dreams are empty.

_Is it love?_

Nathan honestly cannot say.  The future he had been sent to; the world of war that he had grown up in hadn’t had a lot of “love” in it. 

With his eyes and his telepathy he’s seen much of what people call “love” and it really doesn’t match up with what he has with Wade.

The tenderness and emotion of the sentiment have no place in the world he and Deadpool exist in.  There have been times, though; fleeting moments with touches and glances and words that no one else needs ever know about.  Times when tenderness and emotion have been allowed between them.

Those are the moments that make it all worthwhile.  When he has been allowed to see Wade Wilson vulnerable and scared and hurting and Nathan has allowed the mercenary the unfettered access to _his_ soul.

There has been plenty of hate and animosity between them; apathy and loathing that only familiarity could breed.  What they have; what they are runs the gamut of human emotion.

The chaos and non-conformity of _them_ was something that Irene would never accept because there’s nothing comfortable about it; nothing logical.

One can’t expect logic to have anything to do with it when a character like Deadpool is involved.  Wade’s issues; the physical, mental and emotional problems the man has and has had do not allow for normalcy.  Nathan’s own history and experiences negate any hope of a typical ‘relationship.’

Irene and other normal people may want to categorize and define whatever Cable feels for Deadpool and they were all welcome to try, but as he saw it they defied classification.

And that works for them.

**_~End~_ **


End file.
